


Tuesdays with Ian

by babykpats



Series: Short Shorts [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 19:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10394598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykpats/pseuds/babykpats
Summary: "Some say that he was so depressed when his wife died, he locked his son up in a secret room beside his house. He beats his face when he gets angry because his son reminds him so much of his wife." Debbie said, relishing the attention his two younger brothers were giving him."Shut up with that stuff, Debs. You're gonna give them nightmares." Ian said."Is it true though?" Carl asked, obviously hoping for an affirmative answer."No." Ian said firmly.~Inspired by Beauty & the Beast





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched Beauty & the Beast and it was amazing and this is inspired by that. 
> 
> ~
> 
> Just in case it isn't clear enough, Tuesdays are Ian's day offs from working a summer job at the Kash & Grab.

Tuesday #1

"Some say that he was so depressed when his wife died, he locked his son up in a secret room beside his house. He beats his face when he gets angry because his son reminds him so much of his wife." Debbie said, relishing the attention his two younger brothers were giving him.

"Shut up with that stuff, Debs. You're gonna give them nightmares." Ian said.

"Is it true though?" Carl asked, obviously hoping for an affirmative answer.

"No." Ian said firmly.

"Yes." Debbie said at exactly the same time.

"Debbie." Ian scolded.

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Ugh! When did you turn into such a buzz kill?"

Ian shook his head slowly deciding to just stay out of it. He still had the rest of the day to enjoy his day off.

  
Tuesday #3

"Ian! Ian! Ian!" Carl yelled.

Ian sighed exhaustedly and walked out the door to greet his little brothers. "What?"

"We saw it! We saw the secret room!" Carl said jumping excitedly.

"You went to the Milkovich house?!" Ian asked.

"Not inside." Carl said. "Just against the fence. And we saw it! We saw the secret door going to the secret room! Just like Debbie said!"

Liam stood beside Carl giggling.

Ian doubted that Liam understood anything. He was just probably feeding off of the excited energy Carl was exuding.

"Carl, what did I tell you about going to the Milkovich house?" Ian asked.

Carl sighed. "You told me not to."

"And?"

"And to not aggravate the crazy old man living there." Carl recited.

"Good. Now come inside before Fiona figures out that I let you two wander the streets alone." Ian said, motioning for his brothers to get in.

"It's true though." Carl insisted. "What they say about Old Man Milkovich. He does keep his son trapped in the back room. He is crazy."

Ian rolled his eyes. "It's the same urban legend they told me when I was younger. It's just to keep kids off of his property."

Carl shook his head. "I wonder what his son looks like. He'd have so many cool scars on his face and he'll look like Freddie!" Carl yelled excitedly.

"Jesus. No more movie nights for you." Ian muttered.

  
Tuesday #7

Debbie took the kids to the zoo so Ian was able to spend the whole day in bed.

It was glorious.

The problem with that though, is now, he had so much energy.

Ian decided to talk a walk around the neighborhood just to get himself tired enough.

He was kicking a rock with every step and he frowned when the rock fell into the gutter.

Having lost the thing that's been holding his attention, Ian looked up and shook his head when he realized he's made his way in front of the very house he's been telling his brothers to stay away from.

He's heard so many rumors about the people living in the house. Ian would be lying if he said that he wasn't at least a little bit curious.

Obviously, reality wasn't as exciting as the rumors but Ian was curious nonetheless.

He walked over to the fence and leaned against it, looking towards the side of the house where the secret room was supposed to be.

Ian frowned.

In the daylight, the side of the house would look normal, unexceptional. But at night, Ian could see light seeping out from what looked like a hidden door.

Ian mentally noted the pros and cons of trespassing.

Con: Jail and possible death by the hands of Old Man Milkovich.

Pros: Quenched curiosity and a cool story to tell his brothers.

Not to mention, killing this urban legend once and for all.

Ian shrugged, then jumped over the fence making sure to stay low when he landed.

It may be summer vacation, but Ian's body still remembered everything he learned from ROTC.

He carefully made his way to the side of the house, towards the part of the woodwork with the light glowing around it, and carefully pushed the door in.

The very second the door flew open, the lights turned off.

Ian froze.

For a second, he considered falling back and going home. Once that second passed, he figured he was already there so he grabbed his phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight app.

He raised the beam of light to see what was inside the room and frowned in disappointment. It just looked like an old storage room.

Not that Ian believed in the stories he's heard but he was hoping for something more exciting than a storage room.

Suddenly a sound came from somewhere to Ian's right.

Ian frowned and swung his flashlight to the direction of the sound.

He found a boy.

Ian couldn't see his face cause his hand was held up, blocking the beam of light from blinding him probably.

Ian chuckled. "You here to see if the rumors are true too?"

The boy didn't move.

"You okay there?" Ian asked.

The boy stayed stock still.

Ian frowned. "Put your hand down." Something was up with this kid.

The boy sight in defeat before slowly lowering his hand, eyes glued to the floor.

"Holy shit!" Ian exclaimed.

There he was. The hidden Milkovich kid.

His was pale, so fucking pale it was almost beautiful. His face though, apparently the rumors were true. Scars criss-crossed his face, starting from the left going towards the right.

Ian felt his gut clench.

Then he ran.

  
TUESDAY #8

Okay.

Ian had a whole week to gather his thoughts.

So, it was true then. The rumors were true. Old Man Milkovich was hiding his son in a secret room behind his house, physically abusing him.

Once everything sunk in, Ian felt oddly guilty. He shouldn't have ran away like that.

So here he was again, outside the Milkovich property with a peace offering, a Snickers bar Ian snatched from work, in hand.

He carefully made his way to the side of the house. There were no lights to show him where the hidden door was so it took a while before he found it.

He pushed the door in and announced his presence.

"Hello?" Ian spoke into the darkness.

No one answered.

"I was the guy who was here last week." Ian explained. "Sorry for barging in like that."

Ian heard movement from his right.

Ian turned towards the noise and extended the candy bar into the darkness. "I got you something."

Suddenly, there was light.

Ian blinked a couple of times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.

The source of light came from a small desk lamp in the corner, with a piece of fabric thrown over it to dull the light.

On the other corner of the room was the boy Ian saw last week.

"Hi." Ian waved.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He sounded like he was almost growling.

Ian's eyes were glued to his face. The scars were there, like it said in the stories but what the stories forgot to take note of were his eyes. His blue blue blue eyes.

"You done looking?"

Ian shook himself. "Sorry, I just-"

"Wanted to know if the stories were true?" He scoffed. "Well, it is. Get the fuck outta here."

"Other people have been here? They've, uh, seen you?" Ian asked.

"Been here, yeah. Seen me, fuck no." He scoffed. "Usually better at hiding." He muttered to himself.

Ian smiled to himself. This kid's almost adorable. "Got you this." Ian once again offered the candy bar.

The boy frowned. "The fuck's that?"

Ian frowned in disbelief. "You've never seen a candy bar before?"

"Does it look like I have?"

Ian chuckled. "Fair point. It's chocolate." Ian peeled the wrapping off and walked over to the boy, handing him the treat.

"If I die, I swear I'll fucking haunt you." He threatened before taking a bite.

Ian chuckled as he watched the candy bar disappear into the boy's mouth.

"You got more?" He asked, mid-chew.

Ian was all out laughing now. "No, but I can bring you more."

He scoffed. "You ain't coming back."

Ian frowned. "Why not?"

The boy froze, at a loss.

Ian smiled. He walked further in the room and took stock of his surroundings.

It wasn't a storage room, as he initially assumed. It was a poorly furnished bedroom.

He looked around and sat on an old box, testing its durability before trusting it with his full weight.

"What's your name?" Ian asked.

The boy frowned, and looked at Ian with his too-blue eyes.

After too many seconds of silence, the boy replied. "Mickey."

  
TUESDAY #10

"So you've been here all your life?" Ian asked

"Nah." Mickey answered distractedly as he scanned the small mountain of candy bars he had in front of him. "Was out when ma was alive." He finally chose a candy bar and crudely unwrapped it with his teeth.

"What happened after?" Ian asked.

Mickey shrugged. "Got this." Mickey pointed to his face.

Ian frowned. "Does he- Does your dad still hurt you?"

"Doesn't hurt much anymore." Mickey shrugged. "I think he thinks of me as like a human stress ball."

"Let's get outta here." Ian said.

Mickey chuckled. "I'm already taking candy from a stranger, man. Don't wanna push my luck."

Ian let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm serious, you should call the police!"

Mickey suddenly became somber. "Don't you think I've tried?"

Ian frowned.

"I've tried calling the police and all I got was a 'Not this again.'" Mickey chuckled dryly. "Apparently a lot of neighborhood kids have made phone calls pretending to be me and the cops are over it."

"Come with me." Ian said. "I can take you somewhere safe."

"Yeah? Where's that? Your house a couple blocks away from me?" Mickey scoffed. "You don't know my dad. Once he finds out I'm gone, people are gonna pay for it. He's violent and he doesn't like people taking what's his. He realizes I'm gone, people are gonna die. And I ain't worth dying for, Red."

"There must be a way to get you outta here." Ian tried again.

Mickey scoffed. "I've been stuck in this fucking room ever since I was fucking eight years old. Any escape plan you can think of, I've already tried. You know what I got from it?" Mickey raised the hem of his shirt. "This."

Ian drew in a shocked breath. The scarred skin on his face matched the skin on Mickey's stomach. Scars covered almost every inch of skin Mickey had. "Fuck, Mickey."

Mickey shrugged, grabbing and unwrapping another candy bar. "'Sides. If I do get out, what are people gonna think when they see me?" Mickey took a bite from his candy bar. "Better off in here." He muttered.

  
TUESDAY #15

"Mick!" Ian said excitedly.

"What?" Mickey answered mocking Ian's excitement.

Ian rolled his eyes as he moved to close the door. "I got you something."

"Did you get the shit with the fucking coconut again?" Mickey asked.

"No. I got you a book. Liam was reading it today and it reminded me of you." Ian said excitedly.

Mickey shrugged. "Let's see it."

Ian was all smiles when he brandished a beat up copy of Beauty and the Beast, Disney version, complete with pictures.

"Fuck's this?" Mickey muttered.

"Read it!" Ian said, practically bouncing around the small room.

Mickey shrugged and grabbed the book from Ian. He went to his tiny mattress to lie down and start reading.

Ian, deciding it was a good day as any to test his boundaries, squeezed in with Mickey on the mattress.

"Jesus. You're like a fucking furnace, get the fuck away from me." Mickey complained.

Ian laughed and wrapped his arms around Mickey. "You told me you've always wanted to see the sun. Here it is."

"I take it back." Mickey said while laughing as he wriggled his way out of Ian's arms.

Ian held on tight.

"Alright, alright. Fuck's sake. Want me to read this shit or not?" Mickey asked.

Ian loosened his grip as he felt Mickey settle down against him.

As Mickey read, Ian let his eyes wander across Mickey's skin. His scars where light against his too-pale skin. The little patches of raised skin created an almost map-like pattern on Mickey's face. It wasn't ugly, not really, despite the horrific stories behind the scars.

"You can touch 'em. Don't care." Mickey muttered as he flipped the page.

Ian gently ran his fingers over the marks. Following its path as it merged with another scar. It was almost hypnotizing. His finger found its way to Mickey's chin just inches away from Mickey's too-pink lips. His lips looked so soft and thick.

"Un-fucking-believable." Mickey scoffed.

Ian immediately snapped out of his daze. "Huh?"

"Your dumb book." Mickey chuckled. "If I'm the beast, that make you the beauty?"

Ian frowned, brain still taking a moment to catch up to the conversation.

Mickey laughed. "Only you would be gracious enough to give a gift as self-serving as that."

Brain fully caught up, Ian frowned. "No, 'snot like that. I just thought-"

"Thought what? That it would give me someone to relate to?" Mickey asked, one eyebrow raised.

Ian frowned. "No."

Mickey's chuckles quietly dies. "Would be cool to be the beast though. Huge ass body, big house, hot side piece."

Ian laughed. "Belle is not his side piece."

Mickey ignored Ian and carried on. "He has friends and he turns normal in the end."

Ian frowned. "Okay, I take it back. Bad gift. Sorry." Ian moved to grab the book out of Mickey's hands.

"No!" Mickey said. "I like it." Mickey quickly shoved the book under his pillow. "I like it." He repeated.

Ian gave him a soft smile, giving into the urge to hold Mickey's hand.

  
TUESDAY #21

Mickey was working his way through a tube of barbeque Pringles as they were laying side by side on the beat up old mattress.

"You never told me about the door." Ian said.

"Hm?" Mickey asked, mouth full of half-chewed potato chips.

"If your dad was afraid of you running away, why would there be a door in your room, leading outside?" Ian asked.

Mickey swallowed. "I never said he was afraid of me running away." He mumbled. "All I said is that he'll be pissed if some dumbass came and took me away. He cut that door out himself telling me that I could go whenever I wanted. There was this look of pure triumph on his face when he realized I was too chickenshit to run away."

Ian frowned. "We could, you know. We could run away."

Mickey scoffed. "You wanna keep wishing upon a star or you wanna get on me huh, Firecrotch?"

Ian chuckled. "Got dicked once, can't help but beg for it again and again?" He teased.

"I ain't the one coming here with a fucking scrapbook of dicks. Martha Stewart would be both proud and scandalized." Mickey said.

Ian couldn't help but laugh at that.

  
TUESDAY #30

Ian pushed the door and frowned when it didn't swing in the way it usually did.

He knocked, something he never had to do before.

"Go away." came a muffled reply.

"Mick? It's Ian." He never had to do that before either.

It was a moment before the door swung open and Ian was able to step in.

Once Ian's eyes landed on Mickey's face, he was frozen with shock.

On Mickey's face were bruises, one eye all red and swollen.

"You can't stay here." Mickey said urgently. "Don't come back. He knows you now."

"Mickey, what happened?" Ian asked.

"He saw the picture. You have to go. Don't come back. Just leave. He'll kill you." Mickey said.

"Mick." Ian tried again.

"Just fucking go." Mickey pushed him out of the room. "Take this shit with you."

Mickey pushed a box into his arms before shutting the door.

Ian pushed against the door but it didn't open. "Mickey."

"Bye." came a soft reply before Ian heard him walk away.

  
WEDNESDAY

Ian wiped the tears from his face.

He didn't understand what happened. He stood outside Mickey's door for a good two hours, just knocking and knocking but the door didn't open.

He entered his house and sat on the floor, not even bothering to move through to the living room.

Ian uncovered the box he was given and inside were all the gifts Ian had given Mickey.

On the top of the pile was the polaroid picture Ian took of the two of them. It was torn into three little pieces.

"Fuck!" Ian muttered, everything finally falling into place.

Ian leaned against the nearest wall as he let Mickey's voice invade his brain. Just go, don't come back, bye.

~

Ian blinked against the sudden brightness.

It was morning.

Ian was still in their entryway, still leaning against the wall. He looked at the little torn pieces of the photograph.

He quickly got up and looked through the drawers for some tape.

He tried to put the photo together as best he can before taking a moment to just look at their faces.

Ian sighed.

He had to do something.

~

Ian ignored the vibrations in his pocket. Kash can go fuck himself, at least for today.

Ian pushed through the door and winced as he was greeted with a big blast of cool air.

He walked into the police station and walked towards the nearest empty counter.

"How can I help you?" the officer asked.

"There's a... hostage situation." Ian wracked his brain for the words that would describe Mickey's situation properly.

The officer raised her eyebrow. "Can I get the details of the situation?" Her voice was laced with disbelief but Ian was grateful enough to be accommodated, despite.

"It's at 4934 St. Lawrence." Ian answered, the sense of urgency overcoming his initial awkwardness.

The officer sighed. "Let's see 4934 St. Lawrence."

Ian watched as realization slowly took over the officer's facial features.

She rolled her eyes. "We got another prankster here."

Ian's eyes slowly filled with tears, half-fake half-real. "Please. It's true. You need to help him. Please."

The officer stopped for a minute. "You're either completely deluded or a good actor."

"Please. He's my friend." Ian said, as the now-real tears fell from his eyes. He raised the torn up photo and showed it to the officer.

The officer frowned as she examined the photo.

Because of the too-bright flash, Mickey's face looked flawless in the photo. But she had to believe him, she just had to.

She let out an exhausted sigh.

~

Ian quickly made his way back to the Milkovich house. "Hurry!" He said.

The officer huffed and puffed as she tried to catch up to Ian. "Kid, I swear if this is some sort of trick, I'm locking you up."

Ian let out an exasperated sigh as he jumped over the fence and walked towards the side of the house.

"Kid! Kid!" The officer called after him. "I don't have a warrant for this! Stop!"

Ian ignored him as he ran up towards Mickey's door. He tried to push it in, but it didn't budge.

"Kid!" The officer was now only a few steps behind him. "Stop that."

"Mickey!" Ian yelled. "Mickey, open the door!"

Silence.

Ian stepped back and looked around. He spotted a rock. It wasn't a big rock but maybe just the sound of it hitting the door will get Mickey's attention.

"Kid, what are you doing?!" The officer yelled.

Ian raised the rock but before he threw it, the door flew open revealing Mickey's swollen face. "The fuck!? I told you not to come back!" Mickey whisper-yelled.

"Oh my goodness!" The officer exclaimed.

Ian turned around to look at the frozen police office, sending a silent 'I told you so' her way.

She just stood there completely frozen.

Ian frowned. "Don't you have to call for backup or something?!"

This broke the trance the officer was in.

Satisfied, Ian turned back to Mickey and hugged him. "You okay?" He asked.

"Am now."

  
TUESDAY #32

Ian sighed as he plopped down on his bed. "It's been fucking weeks! People are still banging on our doors asking for interviews."

"That's what you get when you start dating a celebrity." Mickey answered.

"Shut the fuck up." Ian chuckled.

The local police station assigned a few officers to the Gallagher house to fend off reporters who wanted to get the inside scoop.

"I can't believe I'm 18 years old now. Fucking 10 years inside that room." Mickey laid down beside Ian. "Hard to keep track when you can't see the fucking sun."

Ian frowned. "Should've come sooner." Ian muttered wrapping his arms around Mickey.

"Maybe I shouldn't have hidden when that one kid came in before you." Mickey teased. "Maybe he would've wooed me and shit. Taken me to his castle."

"Fuck off." Ian said. "You're getting the story backwards. You're supposed to be the one with the huge ass castle and the bomb library."

Mickey chuckled. "How about a huge ass and a bomb dick? That good enough for you?"

Ian laughed. "That'll do."

Once the laughter died down, Mickey sighed.

"What?" Ian asked, sensing the shift in the air.

Mickey turned to face Ian. "This is me. There's no magically turning into a gorgeous prince. This is who I am and how I will look. I'll always look like this and that shit won't change."

"And your point is?" Ian asked.

Mickey frowned. "You're okay with that?"

Ian let out an exasperated sigh. "Jesus! If I knew that book would give you a weird fucking complex where you feel like you have to turn all flawless, I wouldn't have given you the damn book! Je-"

Ian was immediately silenced by Mickey's lips on his.


End file.
